I Heart the DMV

Having been told that I only needed to take my proof of taking the rider safety course to the DMV to get my new license, I went to the closest one. After standing in line for 10 minutes, I was told that I had to go to a DMV with a “testing facility”.

I was on my lunch break. I knew I would be late, but I was determined to get my motorcycle license.

Next stop, “Little Mexico”, where I stood in line for a few minutes before the teller kindly told me that I needed to go across the hall first, to fill out paperwork. I don’t know what YOUR DMV is like, but here, they only help people when they are done with lunch, and whatever else it is they do behind that sliding window.

I filled out the paperwork and was finally called back for an eye test. The paperwork had asked me what color my hair was. I wrote “BL”. That could only mean one of two things in MY book… “BLonde” or “BLue“. Mind you, I was standing right there, when she asked, “WHAT color is your hair?” I should have said “Blue!” just to get her to look for herself.

So, paperwork in hand, I went back to the other side, where I waited behind 10 other people. I finally got up to the window and the clerk couldn’t figure out what I was changing.

“Erm… I am adding a motorcycle designation.” She raised an eyebrow, ever so slightly and said, “Walk down here and we’ll take your picture.”

And I walked out into a half-decent day with my brand-new motorcycle license, fully expecting to give my bike another whirl when I got home. Or not. The 40 mph winds and freezing temps going on by then were hardly conducive to safe, novice motorcycling.

Nebraska rocks.